"After having carefully sought for traces of the double crime of which Count Monte-Leone is accused--after having heard the public accuser, the proof is found most incomplete. It appears that all the facts are based on the resemblance of Count Monte-Leone with some unknown person, in relation to whose identity the Salvatori were mistaken. The court declares the Count Monte-Leone innocent of the double crime imputed to him, and orders that he be immediately released. As for you, the brothers Salvatori," continued the Grand Judge, sternly, "your hatred to the Count Monte-Leone is well known. We interpret your conduct in the most favorable light, attributing it to mistake, and not to cowardly revenge. If the counterfeit ring was fabricated at your instance, to corroborate the accusations made against the Count, and justice should become possessed of proofs of it, you would have to fear its rigor and punishment. If there be severe laws for calumniators, those for assassins are yet more stern. You would in that case have murdered Count Monte-Leone." The Salvatori were amazed. The rage of Stenio was irrepressible. "Beautiful justice! Do we serve the king so faithfully for his justices to treat us thus! I repeat again," said he with an accent so terrible that it reached even Monte-Leone's heart, "the Count was at Pompeia. He stabbed me. He is an assassin!" He then left as he had entered, walking painfully, and leaning on the arms of his brothers. When Stenio Salvatori, spoke thus, the Count had withdrawn, and the noise in the hall prevented the judges from hearing him. The tumult was as great as possible in the hall, which hitherto had been so calm and silent. The public seemed to move, shout, and become clamorous, as a recompense for the constraint which had been so long enforced. The beautiful woman in the recess, who had been so long impassible and motionless, seemed to sympathize with the excited crowd, and lifting up her noble form to its full height, as the Grand Judge spoke the last words, she threw aside her veil, and lifted to heaven her eyes, full of gratitude and joy. She then looked toward Monte-Leone with an expression of the most passionate love, and immediately letting fall her veil, as if to enwrap her sentiments in night, left the room. Quickly, however, as she left, the first of the young men, whose conversation was detailed in the early part of this chapter, had time to see her, and said to his companion: "Signor, indeed you are fortunate. The lady of whom we spoke not long since, and whom you know so well, is the very spirit of beauty incarnate, she is the most magnificent woman in the world. It is _La Felina_." "You think so?" said Taddeo Rovero, who had become yet paler when the singer threw up her veil. "Yes, I think so," said the first speaker, with a smile, "and I am also sure you know so." He left.